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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125620">All the World's a Stage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnissdoesnotfollowback/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback'>katnissdoesnotfollowback</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oneshot Collection [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkwardness Abounds, Everlark Fic Exchange 2020, Explicit Language, F/M, Sexual Content, Voyeurism, auditory voyeurism, johanna has a potty mouth, johanna mason pov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:55:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnissdoesnotfollowback/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Spring 2020 Everlark Fic Exchange to fulfill the prompt: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you having sex.”</p><p>I just take forever cross posting. Also, I'm splitting it into three chapters, even though it posted to tumblr as one piece originally. They're pretty short chapters, so it's a quick read, if a little dirty. Enjoy!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oneshot Collection [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/936882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Everlark Fic Exchange - Springtime 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Act 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercupbadass/gifts">Buttercupbadass</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Johanna Mason loves her neighbors. That is to say, she loves the entertainment they provide her with. It’s a rotating show of fabulous, ridiculous, and delicious drama, and she has a window to each and every one of their lives. Literally.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Victor’s Square is not exactly a square. It’s more of an elongated rectangle shaped building consisting of thirteen apartments, a workout room, a community center, and an office, with a hollowed out central area for a pool. Honestly, the pool is the reason she picked this place instead of The Arbor, which is pretty damn swanky but somehow they forgot to include a pool, of all things, when they added their five thousand luxury amenities. Since Johanna likes sunbathing and not golfing (ugh boring!), Victor’s Square won out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three story design of the building, and her luck in snagging the single apartment on top of the office, means that at some point in the day, barring sun glare on glass or inconvenient curtains, she can see directly into every other apartment on the rectangle. Hence the entertainment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s been privy to all sorts of great shit, and none of them seem to know exactly what they’ve given her. The best part is, they’re clueless. As soon as she realized they were basically living their lives on a stage for her, Johanna started parading around her own place with the curtains wide open...while naked. Stark fucking naked. Just to see what would happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And nothing changed. No one complained. Which granted, she’s got a banging body. Axe wielding will do that, but she can think of at least half a dozen residents who’d be put off by her exhibitionism. And yet… nothing. No one started suspiciously keeping their curtains or blinds closed when they hadn’t before. Everybody was still able to look her in the eye while they talked. Since they’re all too dumb to figure out that their lives are her parade, she just popped the popcorn and settled in for the show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight, however, Johanna is in no mood for the show. After a late night shift ending a bitch of a week, all she’s in the mood to do is swim a few laps to get the grime off of her skin then lay back in one of the lounge chairs around the pool, listening to the hum of the air conditioners in the sweltering Carolina night, swatting at the mosquitos because she’s too damn lazy to light the citronella torches, and stare up at the rectangle of starry sky she can see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet tonight. She swims her laps, and it works wonders to relax her tired bones and even more tired soul. After, she lays out on one of the squeaky lounge chairs. The hum and the warm air make her drowsy. Inevitably, she begins to doze, with only a vague awareness of the passage of time and the sounds around her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the loud click and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh!</span>
  </em>
  <span> that wakes her. Just for a moment. Not long enough to place it at all before she fades back out into half slumber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her psyche is a bitch tonight, dropping long breathy moans into her dreams. The sex so good you can’t quite keep it in kind of moans, even though you’re trying. Completely aware that she messed up a truly great thing just days ago, she tells her subconcious to fuck off and stop reminding her of the one she let get away. Because she was stubborn. Unfortunately, her subconscious is not listening to her. Stupid fucker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scrunching up her nose, she refuses to move. She’s sticky with sweat and pretty sure that she’ll lose two layers of skin off her back and thighs when she goes to stand up from the lounge. Besides, there’s a low moaning noise that makes her wonder if maybe she wasn’t actually dreaming those sex sounds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moans in her mind grow louder and slightly more frantic until she can place the heavy feeling in her limbs. She’s awake after too little sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damn it. She’s not actually dreaming this shit. Which means one of her neighbors is on the brink of a seriously great orgasm. She’s not sure if she’s annoyed by the fact that she herself hasn’t had decent sex in far too long, or if she’s amused at yet another dramatic chapter in life at Victor’s Square.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The real question is… who's doing the nasty tonight?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Act 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A slight shiver and a thrill goes through Johanna as she finally opens her eyes and stares up at the canvas of stars above her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another moan ends in a slight squeal and fuck it, Johanna is hooked on the mystery. Shame she doesn’t have any popcorn down here, because given the sheer volume, and the way the sounds are magnified by the shape of the rectangle around the pool, she’s pretty sure whoever it is, they’re fucking with the windows open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kinky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And a lot more interesting than her job. She does a happy little shimmy and settles in to guess who it possibly could be. First things first… she glances around the pool and discovers to her dismay that every apartment has at least one window open, but they’re all dark. Not surprising given that it’s well past midnight. But it’s unfortunately unhelpful. The air conditioner must be out again. That’s probably what that loud noise was earlier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She closes her eyes again, hoping to pinpoint the direction of the sounds to figure out which of her neighbors is getting lucky tonight. But the shape of the building makes it impossible. Sounds just carry weird in this rectangular bullhorn. They could be coming from anywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ung, yeah, right there… </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh-oooooh</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” The last sound is hitched and breathy. That’s a woman’s voice, Johanna thinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Don’t — don’t stop! -- I --” The word is pinched off in a desperate sort of ecstasy and Johanna smiles. This could be fun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It can’t be Caesar and Claudius, the two radio talk show hosts who live in apartment 6. They’re gay. And men. And a couple. But truthfully, she’s not at all disappointed that she can rule them out. She already knows more than she’d like to admit about their sexual habits. Usually she’s not one to kink shame, but electrodes on nipples is a little too close to the realm of torture for her tastes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Please!” the woman begs and Johanna feels her body flush with the erotic sounds, she’s half aroused but fully invested in figuring out who this is. She could of course, get up and walk around to triangulate the sound, but what’s the fun in that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She quickly rules out Mags in apartment 5. She’s the sweetest old lady, surprisingly spritely. From what Johanna has seen from old pictures of her, Mags was a fucking dish in her youth, but now she’s gotta be pushing ninety. Besides the wrinkles (shudder), Johanna would be worried about heart failure if Mags were the one getting her boots knocked around with this much vigor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The long moans shift to the choppy, catch breath ones that mean she’s close, whoever the lucky bitch is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cinna in apartment 3 is out. He’s ace. Asexual and aromantic. Claims that he’s in a love affair with his work. Well if she could design clothes like the ones Cinna does, Johanna would be willing to forgo sex too. She snorts a little and turns her ear, hoping for a better angle on the sound. She’s pretty sure it’s coming from one of the upstairs apartments, but can’t be sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoever it is, she lets fly a single high pitched note. And then a long stuttering moan that just </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounds</span>
  </em>
  <span> exactly how it feels to come back down from a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good orgasm. Satisfied, relieved, a little sleepy and a whole lotta euphoric. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucky bitch, Johanna thinks again. Her legs feel heavy and her toes tingle in empathy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now if only she could catch something of the partner's noises...unless the woman is masturbating. Possible, but the directions to not stop earlier make it less likely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A low pitched murmur and a deep masculine laugh helpfully nix that thought almost as soon as Johanna has it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not flying solo, but also Johanna can now rule out Enobaria and Lyme from apartment 2. She’s never understood them exactly. On the surface, you’d think they’d be perfect for one another. Their personalities mesh in a weird kinda way. Enobaria is louder while Lyme is more dignified, but they’re so often bickering about politics… and the truth is, they have an open relationship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or at least Johanna assumes they do based on the number of not-Lyme women Enobaria has entertained shoved up against the glass door leading to their balcony...but if not, Johanna is perfectly willing to offer up herself as a rebound to Lyme when the inevitable shit hits the fan. That woman is built like a house and fucking sexy in a domineering sort of way. Like Brienne of Tarth hotness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can order me to submit anytime she wants, Johanna thinks with a smirk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if confirming her thoughts, a long deep moan drifts down to her ears, slow and almost silky. Delighted and yet a little astonished, like he can’t quite believe his luck. Definitely a dude. Blowjob or penetration? Either way, this guy’s pent up, she thinks. She’s also guessing that the girl’s orgasm was from fingering or cunnilingus, which means the show is not anywhere near to being done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s only so many people left who it could be...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her phone vibrates on her chest and she finally opens her eyes again, lifting it above her face and squinting at the overly bright screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe you’re sleeping on this. Do you hear this?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna frowns. The time stamp is right now. Which rules out Finnick and Annie in apartment 4. Damn it. They were the most obvious choice for a man-woman pairing going at it with this much abandon, and while Johanna is pretty sure they have mind numbingly, porn worthy good sex, they’re unfortunately discreet about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s maddening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever she talks about Finnick and Annie, Johanna’s therapist always hums that way therapists sometimes do when they know you’re engaging in something destructive or unhealthy — such as a minor obsession with your best friend’s love and sex life — but the therapist wants you to figure it out on your own. Johanna can’t help it. Finnick’s a walking sexual fantasy for almost every woman out there. Even her lesbian friends find him hot. And Annie’s gorgeous. Johanna can’t help it if she not so secretly wants them to sandwich her. She’s got a good strap on that Annie could borrow to get it done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But alas, or maybe fortunately, Finnick’s text eliminates them as the current lucky couple. Pity. She was hoping for something new to add to her spank bank.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: Where are you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: Well we were asleep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: Boring. You could be giving them competition.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if to punctuate her point, a steady cadence of low, slow moans begins filling the air. They weave through the humidity and now Johanna is just angry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: Do you know who it is? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Nope. I have my theories…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: Ugh spare me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s three potential couples left, and of those three, Johanna’s got a good guess who Finnick thinks it is, or at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> it to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: I’ll gouge out my eyes if it’s them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: Say it. Call them the name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: I’m not using that stupid nickname, you absolute child</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Like you’re any better. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck fuck fuck, stop. You’re gonna make me come,” the lucky man gasps. The woman must say something because he chuckles and whispers back to her, the tone traveling if not the words. Johanna sets her phone down then, perked up by shuffling noises that sound maybe like a position change. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So who is left…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s Haymitch and Effie. Those two… residents of apartments 9 and 11 respectively...they pretend like they hate one another, and maybe they really do. While Johanna enjoys their epic fights, she’s not overly fond of their making up sessions. She’s pretty sure Effie was some kind of tantric goddess or pretzel in another life with the way that woman can bend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s...unnatural.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her phone vibrates again and Johanna lifts it in front of her face, this time it’s a notification from Facebook, sent out to all the residents in the group.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Effie: I have already filed a complaint with Mr. Heavensbee in regards to the broken a/c. He says there will be a repairman here first thing in the morning. In the meantime, we should all attempt to be cordial in our behaviors and not disturb the other residents since all will likely have the windows open for the night.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A text almost immediately after let’s Johanna know what her friend thinks of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick: </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Where’s your sense of fun, Effie?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna bites back a snort. Although the notice rules out the exuberant woman as a candidate for Porn Queen tonight, so Johanna texts Finnick again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: My money is on Cashmere and Gloss</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna sends the text and waits for the response. She’s not disappointed. She cackles internally at the flood of barf emojis and angry exclamations she gets back. Cashmere and Gloss of apartment 1, or as Johanna likes to call them, The Lannisters. Because they may be brother and sister, but they’re totally doing the nasty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> nasty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one believes Johanna about this, though, and she’s not about to tell the other residents how she knows it’s a fact, not just some cockamamy theory of hers. People get pushed off walls for things like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not to mention then they’d all figure out that she can see into their apartments as well and there goes that bit of fun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” the lucky dude draws the word out into almost a croak, and there’s a soft sigh from her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: Something is wrong with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: Do you think he’s well hung? Whoever he is?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: Who cares as long as he knows how to use it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna shakes her head at this, easily able to picture her friend wiggling his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: He sounds well hung. It could still be Haymitch, sans Effie</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all, Haymitch isn’t officially tied down, and at the last residence brunch, Peeta’s good friend Delly was visiting and wasn’t at all subtle about her attraction to Haymitch. The girl was deceptively sweet, bubbly and innocent, but with those knockers on her chest and the way she kept laughing at Haymitch’s worst jokes, Johanna is pretty sure Delly has a thing for the much older man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: I’m going to ignore your obsession with Haymitch’s junk for now. And also nope. Annie says she can see Haymitch through our window, sitting on his balcony, drinking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: Alone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well damn. There goes that theory. Just to be sure, Johanna turns her head and cranes her neck. Sure enough, Haymitch sits on his balcony, lounged back in his chair with a glass in hand. After a second or two, he must feel eyes on him because he looks down towards Johanna and lifts the glass in toast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which is when the wall pounding begins and the lucky man’s moans start to grow out of control. Damn. They’re really into it now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: You know I’m right</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: You’re ridiculous.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: It’s Peeniss. How much you wanna bet?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Finnick has some crazy theory that Peeta Mellark, baker and all around way too nice guy of apartment 8, is somehow secretly dating Katniss-I-Will-Shoot-You-If-You-Touch-Me-Everdeen of apartment 12. Not that the girl doesn’t need a good fuck. If anyone is desperately in need of a body shaking, mind blowing, toe curling orgasm, like the one currently building in the summer night, it’s that perpetually scowling and uptight bitch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna just seriously doubts that the woman now moaning in cadence with the steady headboard thumps and the increasing volume is Katniss. She sounds way too into it, relaxed. Whoever she is, she’s getting nailed five ways to Sunday and is </span>
  <em>
    <span>ecstatic</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It could be one of Katniss’ lovely roommates. Katniss lives with her younger sister and one of her best friends, Madge Undersee, in apartment 12. They’re crammed into it somehow... but before Johanna can suggest it to Finnick, she dismisses the idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Prim’s at college, left three days ago...so it won’t be her. Shame. She’s been living under her big sister’s overprotective arch so long that the poor girl has got some catching up to do in the sex arena. College will be good for that, but it means she’s not the woman--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah.” A resounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>slap </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the accompanying whimper make Johanna’s eyes go wide. “Lift that ass for me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Love it when you do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoa. Okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It could be Madge. Or Gale who lives right next door in apartment 13, but they’re almost as unlikely candidates as Katniss. Johanna is pretty sure Madge is a lesbian. Closeted still, unfortunately, because Johanna wouldn’t mind burying her face between those creamy thighs. And Gale… well it could be Gale, Johanna supposes, with some lucky girl who doesn’t live in Victor’s Square. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe Delly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shame it’s not me, Johanna thinks and risks stretching a little. It has been her before, in her own apartment, because while Gale is usually down to fuck, he’s never down to doing it in his apartment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s because he’s got a massive boner for Katniss and isn’t willing to risk her knowing that he fucks around with at least half a dozen girls that are not Katniss. Masochist. That’s what Gale is. But it’s also why Johanna doubts that Gale is the guy currently balls deep in ecstasy. He’s too loud for someone who wants to keep his sex life secret from his neighbor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As for Peeta...well it could be Peeta with a girl who isn’t Katniss. He’s cute in a wholesome, non-threatening kind of way and sweet enough to get plenty of pussy, if he tried—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! Don’t stop!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get to come again just yet,” the man growls and Johanna automatically clenches her thighs at the commanding tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More shuffling and grunting. One yelp from her, then the pounding resumes. And doesn’t let up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Harder!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Faster and faster, his moans keeping pace. The resounding slapping of skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Gonna -- gonna!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A chorus of “yes’s” and desperate pleas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Peeta!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her phone goes off with a stupid amount of speed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>: I TOLD YOU!!!! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna types madly at this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Johanna: So it’s not the Lannisters, but that doesn’t mean it’s Katniss up there with Peeta. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Finnick</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>:  Oh come on! Who else could it be? You know he’s got it bad for her!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay yeah, there is that. There’s also the fact that Johanna shouldn’t be so bitter about this. Just like Katniss is in dire need of a good fuck, so is Peeta. But based on the sounds and the things they </span>
  <em>
    <span>said…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoever she is, she’s still squealing and the thumping hasn’t let up yet. Damn that’s a long orgasm, Johanna thinks with more than a little jealousy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come for me. Fucking come inside me. Now. Peeta!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those aren’t the words of a sexually frustrated prude talking, Johanna wants to say. Nor are they words of a couple going at it for the first time. Nope. This couple is way too comfortable with each other for it to be a first time. This couple has fucked before. And often.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Go baker boy, Johanna wants to say, but she can’t imagine who he’s with. He hasn’t so much as brought a date home in a year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A series of texts from Finnick crop up on her phone. Flame emojis and winking faces. An eggplant or two and the three drops of water people use to represent cum. Johanna slouches in her chair, a little miffed that she can’t shut Finnick up yet until…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a deep growling, animalistic sound. A long string of curse words mixed with moans and then— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Katniss. Fuuuuuuuuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The curse word takes him about a minute to get out all the way. Damn it, Johanna thinks. Now Finnick will be impossible to live with. She can’t even look at her phone as it blows up again, knowing that he’ll be gloating. Instead she turns it off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As carefully as she can, Johanna peels herself off the lounge chair and tiptoes towards the stairs, intent on reaching her own balcony. Not because it sits caddy corner to Peeta’s apartment and if they’re in his room, it’ll be easier for her to hear any pillow talk. Not at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hurries and nearly gives herself away with the door, but manages it. She stands in the shadows of her balcony and nearly chokes on her tongue at the first thing she hears, besides the unmistakable sounds of coming down thrusts or sucks, maybe kissing, quiet aftermath moans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold still. I’m not done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feels too good,” he pants. “Can’t take much more, Katniss.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, you’ll take it and you’ll like it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I will,” he says and she giggles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you braiding my hair?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can't help it. You look so gorgeous sucking yourself off my dick… I can stop…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No… go ahead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another few seconds of suction noises and then Peeta sighs in relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fwump </span>
  </em>
  <span>and creak of a bed under weight. Johanna can practically see them all cuddled up like a cute little couple in his bed. Sighing and kissing and caressing in their afterglow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Disgusting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Such a cute ass, and all mine,” Katniss says and there’s a slap then a gasp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fucking hell, Johanna thinks, eyes bulging out of her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Who would’ve thought the two of them would be so wild in bed? Who would’ve thought they were actually fucking each other?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna wrinkles her nose then, finally forcing herself to go inside her own place. Just out of curiosity, though, she chances one last peek at Peeta’s place. The curtains are drawn, but a helpful gust sucks them out the window just long enough for Johanna to catch a glimpse of two naked bodies on his bed, illuminated in the soft glow of a lamp. Katniss with her head tipped over the edge in the direction of the window and a smile on her face as Peeta kisses a lazy path over her body. Her fingers plucking absently at the tangled sheets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna heads to bed after that and prepares a salvo of taunting for tomorrow morning. There’s no way she’s letting something this juicy go unremarked upon, especially since literally everyone who was home would’ve heard it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Act 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the morning, Johanna is up early and down at the community center well before the once a month residents’ brunch that Effie insists on hosting. Poor thing is pinch faced and pale this morning, flummoxed when Johanna offers to help set up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose. Since no one else appears to be out and about yet. Nothing funny with the vegetables this time,” Effie chastises and Johanna salutes. She’s got better things planned than erotic displays with the produce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly, she couldn’t care less about the flower arrangements or the energy inherent in the order of food laid out on the table. Helping Effie this morning affords her a prime view through the community center windows of each stairwell and of everyone arriving this morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And not just for brunch, she thinks with a smirk as she spots Gale, still wearing his work shirt, sneaking up a stairwell towards apartment 13. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where have you been all night? Johanna wonders. Not with Katniss, the girl he’s so obviously got the hots for. Even better for the impending drama. She wonders if he’ll find his neighbors present or if Katniss is still cozied up with Peeta in post coital bliss. They’re probably totally morning sex people, Johanna decides.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slow, sweet morning sex with loving words. Ugh, gag me, Johanna rolls her eyes at her own thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Preparations move swiftly after that, even with Effie on her case every few minutes. The pending drama is just too great to dampen her mood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peeta’s one of the first to arrive, conspicuously alone. He chats with Johanna for a few minutes, friendly as always, and then moves off as more of the residents arrive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes everything in Johanna’s energy reserve to not throw something at the back of his head. He acts like he didn’t have the fuck of his life last night. It befuddles her and also infuriates her because it means Finnick could be right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh my god, Finnick could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> about them! They might actually be </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Who's to say they aren’t if they can keep their sex life together such a secret. If the air conditioner hadn’t failed...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peeta’s nonchalance this morning throws all her arguments against Finnick’s stupid Peeniss theories out the window. How is that even possible? She had Peeta pegged as a total softie. Hand holding, nose rubbing, and obnoxiously cute, borderline clingy PDA type of guy, not a rail you into the bed then pretend I don’t even know you the next morning type of guy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh. Pegging. Wonder if he’s into </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Johanna thinks then has to forcibly shake the image out of her head. Because not only does it make sense in a way, especially given Katniss’ comment last night about his ass, but the image is also… sexy as fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck Finnick and his stupid theories.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the tenants of apartments 12 and 13 finally arrive together, Madge splits off to talk to Mags. Gale and Katniss are both suspiciously wet haired. If Johanna didn’t know any better, she’d guess that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the culprits last night, especially when Katniss doesn’t even so much as look in Peeta’s direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s avoiding her fuck buddy, talking to literally everyone else, twisting the damp ends of her braid around her finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you make of it?” Johanna asks Finnick, bumping her hip into his. He shrugs, with that insufferable smirk on his face that he always gets whenever he’s right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For two people who were so clearly intimate last night, Katniss and Peeta are doing a pretty good job of acting like the other one doesn’t even exist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re just… both very private people. But the signs are all there for anyone paying attention.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But that’s the thing… the signs aren’t there!” Johanna protests. What game are they playing, she wonders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t get it,” Johanna says and Finnick glances down at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She waves her hands at Peeta, who looks for all the world like he’s fascinated by whatever Caesar is talking about. But why would he be when Katniss is literally right there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They act like nothing happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> know something happened,” Finnick says conspiratorially. Then his smile slips. “Actually, everyone here knows about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Apparently everyone was home last night…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not Gale,” Johanna adds and lifts one eyebrow. Finnick’s eyes go wide and his mouth turns round.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my. Delicious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?”Johanna says. “But still… you wouldn’t guess it from the way they act.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They can’t stop looking at each other.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna turns her head and motions at them. Absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking at one another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You missed it. Gotta be quick with these two.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johanna shakes her head as she watches Katniss, and Gale who is placing some kind of food on her plate. She’s nodding and listening to him but subtly shifting the food off to the side of her plate while picking up something else and nibbling on it straight away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And finally, Johanna can’t take it anymore. She stomps over to the tables and loads up her own plate, absolutely not eavesdropping on their conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thought you were gonna text me when you got off work?” Gale says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Something came up… Prim. Prim needed to talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything alright?” Gale asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And this time, Johanna just catches the quick dart of gray eyes towards blue. Peeta’s shy smile. Katniss’ swift flutter of lashes and nibble on her bottom lip before returning her attention to Gale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Usually is after a seriously good orgasm or two. And by the way, that’s low, using your baby sister as an excuse,” Johanna snorts. She doesn’t mean to, but it just sort of slips out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katniss whips around to face her. Dark rouge staining her high cheekbones and her lips pinched together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My sister isn’t an excuse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh please. Cut the crap.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katniss hisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m talking about the fact that we never see the two of you so much as kiss or even hold hands in public, but last night, I heard you having sex. Loud sex. Phenomenal, shake the rafters loud, sex.” Johanna smirks at the pair of stunned faces looking at her. And the dozen curious faces plus Peeta’s mortified one. All of them focused on her. Center stage, she thinks with a grin and waves a half eaten croissant around at the gathered crowd. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard you. Except for Gale here, who was probably out getting consolation tail since you didn’t text him. Really, Brainless, what do you expect if you and baker boy are gonna bang with the windows open?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s ten seconds of stunned silence before Finnick shouts, “I figured it out first, by the way!” Then he grunts as Annie elbows him in the gut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baker boy?” Gale practically growls and Johanna sashays away as Peeta steps over to stand behind a now scowling Katniss. Her hand clenches into a fist as she faces Gale. She leans back against Peeta’s chest, as if she knows he’s there before she even sees him. Good for her. At least she’s not going to shy away from it. But now they’re going to be every bit as insufferably disgusting as Finnick and Annie are.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Love’s a bitch, oh well. Time for that popcorn, Johanna thinks.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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